


lying here with you

by bergamots



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, F/M, So much angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-12 13:08:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10491585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bergamots/pseuds/bergamots
Summary: He isn’t focusing on the words, or the drawl or the cadence or the rhythm, Roy is focused on equations and he’s focused the blood that is pooling around his knees and in her hair –





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically a ‘what if?’ scenario where I again kill Riza Hawkeye. Practice makes perfect, I guess.

All he can hear is the sound of blood rushing through his ears as he watches her bleed out on the stone. It’s almost blinding in the muted colours of the room – bright and vibrant amongst the shadows.

He’s numb and _not_ – he’s aware of the arms restraining him but it’s like bees are buzzing underneath his skin. All he can focus on is the rise and fall of her chest and the spaces between those are growing and the pauses are _bad_ and –

Gold-tooth is talking.

He doesn’t listen.

* * *

His voice cracks over her title and she’s not responding _she’s not responding she had one fucking order and she’s not responding._

A blur of pink and purple flies by him and then she’s dragged out of his arms and there’s a familiar flash of light, the heat from the reaction seeping through his gloves uncomfortably.

There’s a moment of silence, where she peers over the Lieutenant, confusion marring her young features.

The little dark-haired girl pulls back slightly, her expression morphing from one of puzzlement to pityacceptance _resignation_ and then he realises.

_Oh._

Carefully, he bundles her into his arms and lets his gloved fingers rest against her wrist. She’s still warm and he feels her blood soak through his coat; a sticky and ugly reminder but he ignores that and rests his forehead against her hair.

She smells of sweat, blood, and his soap. It’s surprisingly easy to breathe – everything is suddenly so _much_ clearer in his mind and yet he’s faintly aware of the anger that is within it is growing and expanding and eviscerating any other possible feeling.

He feels _free._

The young girl is speaking to him in soft, comforting tones like it will somehow make a _difference,_ like suddenly the world has not stopped turning because Riza Hawkeye is dead by his hands and it is her blood that is running over his hands and the irony is not lost on him at _all_ but he is _angry_ and this he thinks –

_This is the quickening._

There are shouts from behind him and a familiar voice speaks out to him, the shifts in tone so familiar and inherently _wrong_.

 _This is the voice of a man who gave up his humanity_ , something inside him whispers and Roy isn’t sure if it means them both.

“ _Sir_ ,” he says lowly, vindictively. Riza is still in his arms and she’s a comforting weight as he feels the bile rise in his throat.

The homunculus responds but he isn’t focusing on the words, or the drawl or the cadence or the rhythm, Roy is focused on equations and he’s focused the blood that is pooling around his knees and in her hair –

_Go on._

He immolates Bradley on the spot.


End file.
